Not agreeable to either party
by writingforHim
Summary: Mr. Bennet's death forced Elizabeth to accept Mr. Darcy's first proposal, but she is not happy about it. after three months of marriage, can Mr. Darcy's cousin help him to overcome his uncomfortable shyness around his new bride and actually confess his feelings to her?
1. The end justifies the means

Just a disclaimer. I do not approve of drinking, nor do I think Mr. Darcy does, I merely wanted a situation in which he acted out of Character and surprised Elizabeth. Please do not blame him for it, he just loves Elizabeth too much.

"What are you doing out here in the snow?" Colonel Fitzwilliam said by way of greeting as he met his much younger cousin out in the Pemberley gardens.

"Just out for a walk," Georgiana smiled at him "Elizabeth has taught me to love walking nearly as much as she does."

"And how is the new Mrs. Darcy?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, reigning in his mount, in no hurry to get into the large house, knowing he would have plenty of time with his cousins as he was to spend Christmas with them.

At this question, Georgiana's smile faltered. "Elizabeth is quite well, I believe. She has never been ill."

Colonel Fitzwilliam dismounted smoothly to walk beside her, leading his horse along. "That's not what I meant, and you know it, little cousin."

Georgiana's shoulders drooped. "I so wanted them to get along better. My brother is the best man I know, and Elizabeth is delightful, but they just… don't."

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned. Darcy was his cousin, and he was closer to him than his own brother. The stubborn and stiff gentleman had been blessed enough to find the perfect woman to compliment him only to go and bumble through everything from insulting her at their first meeting to insulting her family when he proposed.

Darcy came off as proud, and he was, but more of it was that he was actually shy and uncomfortable around strangers, add the woman he fancied and he was even more nervous. But unlike some shy people, he didn't hide away. Instead, he just got quiet and stiff.

As it was, the poor man had made a mess of things and had Elizabeth had any other choice she would have refused his proposal. The Colonel knew this because Elizabeth herself had told Darcy so, angrily after he had proposed, and Colonel Fitzwilliam's morose cousin Darcy had related it back to him.

Darcy wouldn't admit he was in love with her at first, but what else would make a man desire such a socially unacceptable match? What had the last three months of marriage taught the couple? That perhaps remained to be seen.

"I'm sure he loved her," he muttered squinting through the reflected sunlight on the pristine snow.

"Oh yes, I am sure of it," Georgiana quickly added. "you have only to see how he stares at her when she is in the room and the way he says her name, and the expression on his face when he talks of her. Only, I don't think Elizabeth knows. If only he would relax in her presence instead of drawing into his shell and only watching her," Georgie sighed.

"Relax, hmm," Colonel Fitzwilliam stroked his chin, an idea coming to mind.

"I think you have hit the nail on the head Goergie."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have just given me the means of getting Mr. Darcy of Pemberley to relax around his delightful wife."

"What?" Georgiana looked puzzled.

"You forget my little cousin that I have known your brother longer than you, and that I am also a man," he strode forward, grinning, now ready to enter the Grand House.

"What does being a man have to do with any of it?" Georgiana impatiently demanded, floundering in the snow after him as she attempted to keep up.

"You will just have to see."

Fitzwilliam Darcy could nearly feel the anger radiating off of Elizabeth in waves. Across the table, from him, he could catch the spark in her eyes every time their gazed happened to meet. At which point she would quickly look away as if she couldn't bear to look at him any longer.

No doubt that was the case, he had by now begun to despair that Elizabeth would ever come even to like him. She was a wonderful mistress of Pemberley, as he had known she would be. But she could not it seemed, forgive him for not being a man she could love. And perhaps for giving her no choice in marrying him.

She was the most beautiful woman in the whole country, if not the world, and his heart ached every time he looked at her and knew that though she was his wife she was unattainable. He treasured the moments when they got along and loved her teasing banter.

She might never be truly his wife, but he didn't think he could bear to be without her altogether, better to have her near him, even if she would always dislike him. Their most recent argument had been over inviting her family to spend Christmas with them. He could not handle the Bennet horde descending on their home, especially Mrs. Bennet bewailing the loss of her husband all hours of the day and night. But Elizabeth wanted her family there.

And so on this, as on many other things, their wills clashed. Therefore, while Elizabeth blossomed as the mistress of Pemberley, he found himself drawing away more and more often to nurse his gloomy thoughts. Hopefully, the company of his cousin would lighten the mood and add a little Christmas cheer to the table. So far it had not helped.

"I believe it is time for us to leave you, gentlemen," Elizabeth rose with the grace of a queen and nodded to Colonel Fitzwilliam and her husband before leaving the room with Georgiana in tow. The Colonel studied his cousin. Darcy was as stiff and proud in appearance as ever, but his eyes followed his wife's exit with a resigned sadness that would have touched the coldest heart, even Elizabeth's he was sure, had Darcy ever let her see that look.

"Come on man, cheer up, you seem quite gloomy tonight," the Colonel poured his friend a drink and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm perhaps a bit tired, gloomy is not the word at all." Darcy insisted. But the fact that he accepted the drink and then downed it all at once did not agree with his assurances.

This just might be easier than he had thought. The Colonel refiled his cousin's glass and took a seat next to him.

\- an hour later -

"No, she does not care for me, and that is enough," Darcy said morosely staring into his glass.

"Have you told her how you feel?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

Darcy shook his head "no-yes, I told her I loved her when I proposed, it made no difference, she despises me. I have made too many mistakes already."

"Perhaps you should tell her again."

"I do not see what good it would do, nor do I particularly like having such deep feelings tossed back in my face."

Had it not been for the brandy, they would never be having this discussion. While alcohol made some men cheerful and giddy, it had a different effect on Mr. Darcy, changing him from his usual reserved stiff into a man who was bluntly honest instead of insisting all was well.

"Perhaps you ought to go to bed good man and think about what I said," Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped his cousin on the shoulder and directed him from the study where they had been.

"Perhaps," Darcy muttered, leaving the room.

The Colonel sighed, emptying his own glass for the first time. Why did reasoning with his cousin seem like a battle half the time? Either way, his outflanking maneuver of relaxing his cousin had failed. The conversation had taken too long, and now it looked as if Elizabeth had retired for the evening.

Elizabeth set aside her needlework and rubbed her eyes. She was getting cross-eyed from staring at the tiny stitches for so long. It was time to retire anyhow. Her infuriating husband and his cousin had been visiting for quite some time, but she was sure they would be retiring soon as well. The Colonel was no doubt tired after his journey, and Darcy wouldn't want to sit up alone as she and Georgiana had already gone to their rooms.

Elizabeth had a hot temper, but it cooled quickly, and while not forgiving Darcy for his refusal to invite her family for Christmas, felt that by morning she would be able to offer an olive branch of conversation so that the table might not be so difficult to sit around.

She was just preparing to extinguish the lamps when she heard a crash from downstairs. Hurriedly slipping on her dressing gown, Elizabeth hurried down the stairs, hoping Georgiana had not hurt herself tripping over something in the dark.

What she found instead was not at all what she had imagined, but her husband, who had apparently toppled the glass pitcher on the table in the downstairs hall.

"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth said in surprise.

He turned towards her slowly, and while not quite unsteadily, there was something about his behavior that clued Elizabeth into the fact that he had been drinking. While she had not known him long, Elizabeth had never known Darcy to drink more than one glass.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Perfectly," he responded, his tone clipped. She could not make him out entirely in the dark, but she could see enough in the moonlight to see him nearly miss the first step in the stairs. Apparently, he had been drinking and had had a little too much. The crash would soon bring the servants, and she knew he would not want to be seen in such a state, nor would the servants wish to see their beloved master in such a state. Nor she decided, did she want him to fall down the stairs and hurt himself. My, but she was charitable this evening.

Elizabeth sighed. "Let me help you," she said, in a no-nonsense tone, joining him at the stairs and without thinking wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him as she had done for her sister Lydia more than once when they came home from a party where she had had too much to drink. Thankfully Mr. Darcy was not as suborn as her sister an accepted her help, his arm going around her shoulders and enveloping her in his manly scent that made her at once remember that this was nothing like Lydia.

She looked up to find him staring back down at her, the expression in his beautiful dark eyes seeming perfectly coherent. She was surprised to see that he had a slight smile on his face as he stared at her that looked entirely out of place for him. They reached the top of the stairs without mishap and Elizabeth was about to release him when she heard the servants downstairs, whispering over the accident.

Not wanting to be seen, for the above reasons and especially as it appeared she was nearly wrapped in an embrace from her husband, Elizabeth quickly tugged him into her bedchamber as the door was right there.

From there he could cross into his room without being seen. As Mr. Darcy seemed in no hurry to let go of her support, Elizabeth kept them as they were and started across the bedroom, only to be surprised when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful," the words were nearly a whisper, as if he breathed them out, in awe. Now it was Elizabeth's turn to stumble. She got over her surprise soon enough and laughed lightly "there is no need to waste your flattery, Mr. Darcy, I will help you across the room without it."

"Tis not flattery, it's true," he sounded almost affronted and halted his progress across the room, forcing Elizabeth to stop as well. She looked up at him, finding his warm gaze on her once again.

"You have had too much to drink Mr. Darcy," she stated, lightly, feeling humor was the best way to deal with the situation.

"Perhaps," he conceded honestly, his gaze never leaving her face "but I can still see," then to her further shock he reached out and caressed her cheek in a move he had never once made to do ever before.

His touch made her flush, or perhaps it was his warm gaze, either way, it seemed he was actually unable to see straight or was confusing her with someone else, after all, she was only _tolerable_. Either way, he needed to get to bed. She needed him to get to bed.

"Come along," she turned away, wrapping her arm around him once again, but this time more because she needed to tug him in the direction of the safety of his room that because she feared he couldn't walk straight. She to her relief he allowed her to lead him unresistingly.

Once in his room, she released him immediately, ready to be away from him. This warm complimentary man seemed to be someone not at all related to her husband, save he was still quite as handsome.

"Would you like me to ring for your valet?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy shook his head, "I think not," he decided.

Elizabeth hesitated, then, determined to be practical, and shove aside this strange awareness, moved towards him again. "Then let me help you off with your jacket at least." He stilled completely as she quickly unfastened the buttons of the aforementioned garment. "Now, I think we ought to go to bed," she said, giving him a quick smile.

A light she had never seen before kindled in the back of his eyes, which, naive as she might have been, even Elizabeth could recognize as desire. It was as if his mask had come off and she clearly saw all the emotions that he usually kept hidden

"An excellent notion, Mrs. Darcy," his voice had changed to a low husky tone, and before she could see what he was about, he had taken her hand and turning it over kissed the sensitive skin on the underside of her wrist. Perhaps he was not so intoxicated as she had thought, or perhaps he was.

"Mr. Darcy," she stuttered, quite startled by his behavior. "What has come over you?"

"Nothing at all," he had yet to release her hand, and Elizabeth found that her heart was pounding quite oddly with the way his dark eyes were fastened on her.

"You are so beautiful," he repeated, shaking his head as if unable to believe it.

"And you Mr. Darcy, have had too much to drink," she retorted again, giving him an arch look, meaning to defuse whatever situation she now found herself in. With the way her heart was beating, she found it rather hard to think clearly.

His response once again surprised her. At her look he groaned "do not do that to me Elizabeth," and before she could think what to do, he bent his head and kissed her hungrily. There seemed to be a blinding flash of light when his lips touched hers, and suddenly she lost what little breath she had. Who knew a kiss felt like that? She melted against him unable to think or move. The kiss was not long, but Mr. Darcy seemed in no mood to stop, changing direction and kissing her neck, making her catch her breath. His kiss made her weak. Who was this man and what had he done with her gentlemanly husband?

"Mr. Darcy," she weakly protested, managing to push back against his chest. He let her go, but not far, only loosening his hold. Not sure she could stand on her own after that, Elizabeth allowed him to keep her there. His expression showed no embarrassment or remorse whatsoever only something she uncomfortably noted looked like devotion.

"Mr. Darcy, what are you doing?" she protested, breathlessly.

"O what I have wanted to do from nearly the moment I laid eyes on you," he murmured, ducking his head to kiss her again, this time softer and longer. Elizabeth realized she should have been afraid, or angry, but she could not feel either, she was too confused, and he so gentle and soft.

What had come over him? Was that all he wanted, to take her to his bed? Was that why he had married her? If so, why had he not done so earlier when it was entirely in his right to insist. Instead, he had given her as much time as she wanted.

Was this the way Mr. Darcy treated the nearest woman when he was in this state or was she special? It seemed that Mr. Darcy's drinking had made him unusually open and honest, and as she managed to settle down the erratic beating of her heart, she realized this was the perfect time to get some answers that she desperately wanted to know.

Placing a hand against his chest to stop him from kissing her again she stared into his unfathomably deep gaze. "Why did you marry me?" she whispered.

"What?" he blinked seeming genuinely surprised by the question.

"Why did you marry me?" she repeated.

"Because I love you," he responded as if it were the plainest thing in the world. Elizabeth's breath caught indeed this time.

"You love me?"

"I told you so when I asked you to marry me." So he had, but in everything else, he had said she had somewhat overlooked it.

"But now-" Elizabeth started.

"I love you more than words can say," he whispered. His gaze turned almost sad.

"Why have you never told me?" Elizabeth murmured, her world was rocked by this piece of information, were it true, and there was truth in all his looks. Whatever he had felt at the time of his proposal she was sure his other feelings would soon drive it away altogether.

"Because you make me nervous and I cannot think what to say," he replied. Apparently, she did not make him nervous at present, in her nightdress.

Elizabeth swallowed hard her heart pounding "if you love me, Mr. Darcy, show me."

"How?" he asked.

Elizabeth later had no idea where the next words she spoke came from "court me, Mr. Darcy, make me fall in love with you." And then she quickly left the room for her own. Diving under the covers she lay there, her heart pounding and her mind reliving the feel of his lips against hers. He did not follow her, and she was relieved. Had she been wrong in thinking she had condemned herself to a loveless marriage? Did he love her _more than words could say?_ Could she love him in return? Did she want to? What was going to happen in the morning?

let me know what you think, this is the naughtiest I have ever portrayed Mr. Darcy, he is just too much of a gentleman, but I enjoyed writing it. let me know if you are interested in hearing more. and how believable the Characters are. I feel like Elizabeth is a bit out of Character, but remember they have been married for three months and she does not want her marriage to be like this...


	2. Second Chance

Wow! thank you all so much for the nice reviews! Good reviews really do encourage me to write! normally I don't get chapters up this soon but I have been sick in bed with nothing better to do... Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 2

With a groan, Mr. Darcy opened one eye. Sunlight streamed through the window near his bed and made him blink. Why was it so late? Why did he have a headache, and even more importantly, why was he still wearing his clothes, save his jacket? Sitting up he rubbed a hand over his face, attempting to remove the fog from his brain. The last thing he remembered was talking with his cousin in the study. Talking and drinking. Blast Fitzwilliam. He had no doubt plied him with too much drink to get whatever answers out of him he desired. No doubt about his marriage, his cousin would just be nosey enough.

What had they been talking about? He found his Jacket from the night before hanging over the chair next to his writing desk. Why had his valet not- suddenly a picture flashed into his mind, the darkened bedchamber, Elizabeth so close, unfastening his jacket- He slammed his eyes closed as it all came back. No, he had not. Blast, he had.

He was never inviting his cousin for Christmas again. What would Elizabeth think of him? He was mortified. Could it all have been a dream, some fevered imagination brought on by the conversation and drink? There was always hope.

Darcy dressed himself, not wanting his valet to see that he had spent the night in his clothes. The man had been his father's valet for as long as he could remember and Darcy didn't have the heart to dismiss him, even though he was getting up in years and had a habit of sharing news about the master with the rest of the servants.

In the middle of hastily tying his cravat, he paused as suddenly Elizabeth's words from the night before came to his mind. _"if you love me, Mr. Darcy, show me."_

Show her. How could she not have known? Could she not see it in the motivation behind his every action? Court her. Mr. Darcy had never courted a woman before, save for his apparently disastrous attempt at Rosings. Though in his defense he had not been sure that was what he was doing in meeting her on her walks.

The cravat momentarily forgotten, he rubbed his forehead, staring into the mirror at his reflection unseeingly. In that case, he had never courted a woman. Too often he had found himself being courted by women, or perhaps his fortune, which was part of what made Elizabeth so refreshing and attractive. Either way, it still presented him with a problem.

Not that he didn't know how one was to go about it, in theory, it was just that theory was so different from real life, and they were already married. He could not call on her at her house, and sit in the parlor, or attend a family dinner at her house. And there was another reason he had never courted a woman beside the fact that he had never felt any inclination for the women he had met. He was sure he would not be good at it.

The words he wanted to say never came out right, _especially_ when he was around Elizabeth. They never flowed with the easy compliments and flattery that were such a part of polite society's conversation. When he was with men, his equals, he was easy, or around women, he cared not a wit for, but Elizabeth… Elizabeth.

Blast, he must get shaved, and down to breakfast, it was getting late. The last person he wanted to turn to for advice at the moment was his cousin, but unfortunately, he didn't seem to have anyone else.

Darcy rang for his valet. If he was actually going to do this, he didn't want to muddle it like last time. Perhaps it had been a dream after all, and he could forget it had ever happened. The memory of Elizabeth in his arms made him change his mind; he hoped it had not been a dream. Whatever Elizabeth thought of his behavior last night, at least he could remember what it had been like.

"You rang sir?" his valet appeared.

"Yes, Barton I-" his valet cut him off with a tisk of disapproval at Darcy's attempted cravat knot, and set about fixing the mess.

"I thought you would have rung earlier," Barton said handing him his jacket.

"I overslept," Darcy admitted.

"Ah," Barton's eye fell on the rumpled clothing he had slept in. "Hmm, you should have called me last night, sir," he said with disapproval, collecting the items.

"Yes, I was..." _what was he supposed to say?_ "busy."

"Ah, I see," Barton said with a knowing tone, his eyes cutting to the door that separated Darcy's room from Elizabeth's.

Darcy felt his face heat. "Excuse me," he left the room. He was going to have a talk with Barton, never mind that he had faithfully served his father for more years than Darcy had been alive, some things just could not be tolerated.

"So? What of your plan, are you going to tell me or not?" Georgiana demanded, pouring the tea for her cousin. She was a shy girl, but truthfully it was impossible for anyone to be shy around Richard. They found themselves alone in the breakfast room, neither the master or mistress of the hose having appeared yet.

"No, I'm afraid it is not for little girls ears," Richard teased.

Georgiana frowned "I am not a little girl, I am nearly seventeen!"

"Well, I attempted my scheme last night," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, lowering his voice to that of a conspiratorial partner. "Unfortunately Mrs. Darcy went to bed too early."

Georgiana was about to ask what that meant, but just then they heard the familiar step of Mr. Darcy in the hall and busied themselves with buttering their toast and drinking their tea. Darcy appeared and accepted a plate from the footman.

"Good morning, cousin," Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted cheerfully.

Darcy gave him a look, telling his cousin just how displeased he was over last night. "we have something to discuss," he said with finality, "later," he added as his gaze fell on a very curious Georgiana.

"Whenever you wish, I am at your service, as always."

Georgiana could swear, if that were at all proper for a lady, that her brother snorted and muttered something under his breath. Fitzwilliam Darcy never muttered.

"I apologize for my lateness this morning," Darcy addressed them both, returning to the table with some of the breakfast fare. "I fear I stayed up too late last night and overslept."

"Quite alright, Georgiana has been a wonderful hostess," Colonel Fitzwilliam assured him.

"Of course," Darcy spared her a smile and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Has Elizabeth come down yet?" he asked his back to both of them.

"No, I'm surprised," Georgiana stated, passing the sugar to her cousin "she is usually up much earlier than this," she explained to the Colonel.

Darcy said nothing and hoped it didn't seem odd.

After her maid put the finishing touches on her hair, Elizabeth sent her away and sat in her room a few minutes more, staring unseeingly into the mirror. She must go downstairs. She had been up here an unforgivably long time, yet she did not feel she was ready to face her husband yet after last night. How would they both act?

It was a meeting she feared would be highly embarrassing to them both and best not performed for an audience. Would her husband be stiff and uncomfortable? Embarrassed and disgusted by his behavior of the night before? Or would he be warm and open, as he had been last night, repeating his assurances?

Elizabeth blushed hotly, remembering his suggestion that they go to bed. Whatever happened, she must do her best to keep her composure. At least by now, he would be finished with breakfast, and she would not have to meet with him quite yet.

Lifting her chin Elizabeth left the room, determined to be herself and not let any others see a hint of what had happened the night before. Taking the stairs, Elizabeth felt a new anticipation for the day that had been lacking the last three months. An interest, and a hope that what her husband had said the night before was true.

Did he love her more than words could say? Did he want to kiss her every time he saw her? Feeling herself blush, Elizabeth halted that train of thoughts and paused to smooth her dress and let her face cool before entering the breakfast room.

Her smile and step faltered the moment she entered. Mr. Darcy was still there; they were all still there. At her entrance, the gentlemen stood hastily, and her gazes met her husband's. They both glanced away almost as quickly, but not before she caught her husbands heightened color. It no doubt matching the color of her own face. She prayed her blush was not so very obvious as it felt.

Mr. Darcy regained his composure. "Good morning," he bowed to her.

"Good morning," Elizabeth managed, taking a seat quickly and feeling flustered in a way that was utterly new to her. This would not do. All he did was look at her, and she blushed. Elizabeth let the servant fill her plat and didn't even look at what she was eating. Why didn't he say something? Unfortunately, he was acting perfectly normal, if not a little quieter. She should have known he would not show any emotion; it was not his way, he would never behave in such a way in public. She wished to see that he was not entirely at ease but didn't feel equal to meeting his gaze again.

Elizabeth feared everyone could feel the discomfort in the room that she could. Once when she lifted her gaze, she caught Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam looking at each other with raised eyebrows. She felt tongue-tied and could not think of much to say, causing the table to fall into a rather uncomfortable silence.

Mr. Darcy, at least, seemed to feel it, and didn't stay long, standing he said that if no one would be needing him, he would be in the study doing some bookkeeping. He left without another glance at her.

Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam having already finished eating, announced quickly that they had planned a walk that morning and before she could catch her breath, Elizabeth was left alone to ponder what she ought to do now.

The most sensible thing to do would be to pretend as if nothing had happened at all and see whether Mr. Darcy took her advice and attempted to court her or not, better than making a fool of herself and reminding him if he was embarrassed by the memory.

And yet… Elizabeth chewed her lip, thinking of what he had said last night in his complete honesty. _"You make me nervous, and I cannot think what to say."_ Perhaps Mr. Darcy might need a little help…

Did she really want to be courted by Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth's brows lowered as she remembered all the interactions that had led, strangely enough, to their wedding. It was not a good history, yet, married they were, and for the rest of her life, she was Mrs. Darcy, if there were a possibility that they might at least be fond of one another she would take it. There was something bewitching and attractive in the idea of being so _wanted._ Elizabeth smiled tentatively, whatever happened over the next few days this would no doubt prove to be a very interesting Christmas.

She was beautiful, ravishing actually, as always, her head bent next to Georgiana's as they discussed the Christmas menu together. "do you always have lemon flavored pudding?" Elizabeth puzzled.

"Oh yes," Georgiana assured her "it's the Colonel's favorite.

"Oh, well in that case-"

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him where he stood in the sitting room doorway.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked him innocently "what can we do for you?" her expression showed none of the embarrassment that it had held that morning.

"He addressed Georgiana instead. "Georgie, I would like to speak with Elizabeth for a moment if you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all," Georgiana popped back up from her seat and gathered the menu's scattered about "we can finish anytime."

Once Georgiana was gone he pondered a moment whether he ought to stand or sit for such a conversation. Deciding to remain as he was, and just plunge in he began. "Elizabeth, I feel I must apologize for last night."

"Last night?" she asked quizzically. She wasn't going to make this easy on him was she. Perhaps he deserved that.

"Yes, last night."

"What part of last night?" she asked innocently.

He blew out a slightly frustrated breath "all of it. I don't normally-" he started to explain, but she stopped him.

"All of it? Including when you said you loved me?"

"Well," he hesitated, did she want him to apologize for that? "No, not that exactly."

"What then, being honest?"

"No, not being honest. Allowing myself to be in such a state. It will not happen again, and I do apologize sincerely for that."

"Ah, well, that I can forgive," Elizabeth agreed seriously. Was she punishing him or teasing him?

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

"I do believe that is the first time you have ever apologized to me." Was it? Darcy was suddenly humbled by the way he had been treating her, his dearest Elizabeth. His thoughts went back to the sharp and stinging reproofs she had showered on him the day he proposed. He said he loved her, but did his actions really show it? In his pride was he exactly as she had said he was? He had been so offended and angry at her at first, and then the wedding had been so wonderful, all else was swept from his mind other than _her_.

What he said before leaving her in the sitting room he really did not remember, he went to his study and sat at the desk, his hands still for once, as he contemplated with growing self-hatred his actions since that Autumn when he has first seen Elizabeth.

He did not even deserve her love. He closed his eyes as the pain washed over him, she had been right, and he, too proud and stubborn and busy thinking about himself to think of what she felt. Yet, perhaps all was not lost, last night she had offered him another chance. Did it still hold? Could he change and make her love him? Not soon, not easily, and perhaps not himself, the way he was. Quiet and stiff, the exact opposite of Bingley, or _Wickham_. But he could change how he treated her, and he could not live with himself if he did not try.

And he knew where he ought to start, Christmas as still two weeks away, there was time. He slid out a sheet of paper and studied it. Did he love Elizabeth? The answer to that question was obvious, or he would not find himself in this uncomfortable position. Did he love Elizabeth enough to put up with her mother, and her silly sisters? Well, apparently yes, as he had married her and was forever tied to the Bennet Family. If this was the case why was he being so stubborn and thoughtless of her wishes? With a heartfelt sigh, Darcy dipped his pen in the inkwell and began to write a letter that he feared he might later regret.

In fact, he thought with chagrin; he actually had two letters he ought to write if he was going to rectify his mistakes.


	3. Letters

I'm so sorry it has been so long. College got in the way. Thanks for being patient, and hope you enjoy!

 **Chapter 3**

"Brother, Old Thomas says that the pond is frozen enough for us to go skating, should you like to join us?" Georgiana asked, bouncing into the sitting room out of breath.

"Thank you Georgie, but I'm busy right now," Mr. Darcy replied.

"Oh, no trouble, we'll wait for you," Richard said readily, joining Georgiana in the room.

"Yes, no trouble at all."

"This may take some time, go ahead without me."

"But you have not joined me in years, and you promised," Georgiana reminded him. Since when did Georgiana not take a no for a no? _Since Elizabeth came._

"Could we defer it until tomorrow?" he suggested.

"I suppose, what are you writing?" Georgiana asked innocently.

"A letter," Mr. Darcy replied, sliding several sheets of paper over the partially finished letter.

"A letter can wait can it not?" pressed the Colonel.

"Not this one."

"Well, who is it too?"

Fitzwilliam Darcy chose not to answer, which was a mistake, as it sparked his cousin's curiosity. Richard came to peer over his shoulder only to find the letter covered. "Who did you say it was too?"

"I didn't."

"Well, why don't you? Perhaps we can help you finish it quicker so we can all go skating."

"No."

"Oh come now, what can be so secretive about a letter?" the Colonel protested. Darcy glanced at his younger sister, but she too looked curious, though she wasn't about to go so far as the Colonel, she didn't seem inclined to assist her brother.

"If you do not tell us," Richard continued "we shall have to come up with the answer ourselves, and I'm sure it would be much worse."

"I can not imagine anything bad-" Georgiana started.

"I can," the Colonel announced a gleam in his eye "he is writing to our Aunt, Lady Catherine to beg her forgiveness over his marriage,"

"No," Darcy rolled his eyes

"I know! Mrs. Bennet! No, wait, I have it!"

"If you must know I was writing to my wife," Mr. Darcy said with a sigh before his cousin came up with any more ludicrous ideas as to the letter's recipient.

"Oh, well what's the secret about that? And why are you writing to her when you're both in the same house?" Richard was the most infuriating Colonel in his Majestie's army.

Georgiana took pity on him "you don't have to tell us."

"Because I find it easier to write than to speak at times," Mr. Darcy admitted.

"I see," Colonel Fitzwilliam had that particular gleam in his eye. "Are you taking my advice?" he asked with bearly concealed delight. He could either come clean, or his cousin would pester it out of him as he had when they were boys. There was a reason there had been no secrets between them.

"I have come to recognize that I have made a great many mistakes in my relationship with Elizabeth, and she has graciously given me a chance to try again. I am courting her."

Georgiana was torn between expression her pleasure at his decision and denying his faults; his cousin had no such trouble. "Well, it's about time man! Good show, you can be assured of our help as well."

"I don't want any help, thank you," Darcy was quick to assure him.

"Of course you don't," Richard slapped him on the back, "but you need it. Come along Georgie; we had better leave him to his task."

"Of course," Georgiana agreed. To Mr. Darcy's surprise, his little sister gave him an impulsive hug the moment his cousin was out of the room. "I'm so pleased!" she whispered in his ear, before hurrying out of the room, calling over her shoulder "You will come skating with us soon though, won't you? I'm sure Elizabeth will want to join us!"

He had not thought of how difficult it might have been for Georgiana to be in between them, seeing the stiffness and knowing they weren't getting along. To avoid any further interruptions, Mr. Darcy took his letter to his room where he finished it.

Elizabeth had been in fine form that evening, laughing and sparkling in all her charm. Pleased with herself, Elizabeth was sure that no one might have noticed a difference in her behavior. She felt that the cheer of the season had indeed filled the house now and she found herself looking forward to what the days ahead would hold.

"Would you like me to stay and take down your hair Ma'am?" her maid asked, after having helped her get dressed in her night clothes.

"No, thank you, you may go," Elizabeth dismissed her, thinking with a pang how very similar those words were to what Jane had always said to her before bed. They had always taken each other's hair down…

Her joy of minutes before was replaced with sadness and melancholy as she thought of her family so far away in London, spending the season without her. Her mother would be in a tizzy over the decorations, finally wearing herself out and taking to her bed leaving the girls to do the decorating, which is what they wanted all along.

Hopefully, the season would bring jane more cheer, her letters to Elizabeth still seemed to hold forced cheerfulness, though she denied it whenever Elizabeth asked. And why shouldn't she be? She had lost the man she loved and her father all so close together.

Slowly unfastening her hair, she moved to the side of her elegant bed. Her hands stilled in their movements as she saw something lying on her pillow. It looked like a letter, folded in half and with a single bloom from the hothouse resting across it.

Elizabeth breath caught slightly and slowly she retrieved the letter, unfolding it to read the contents.

 _My dearest Elizabeth,_ Her cheek flushed slightly at the warm salutation.

 _My dearest Elizabeth,_

 _For that is what you are, and have been even before I had any true claim on you. I have wanted you for my own since you first bewitched me, mind body and soul in Merriton. There is much to be said, and I have chosen to write because, as you know, too often I find it difficult to say what I wish. I am much more comfortable I find to put my thoughts on paper than into words._

 _Therefore, My dearest Elizabeth, I find myself in a quandary as to where I ought to begin, but I believe stating one's intentions is always the proper way. Therefore, Elizabeth, if you are still amenable to the idea, I should tell you I have every intention of courting you, with the purpose of showing you how I feel, and in the hopes of changing your feelings towards myself._

 _I should ask that you be patient with me and take into account that I have never courted or sought to express such deep feelings aloud to any woman, certainly not one as worthy as you to be pleased._

 _I am saddened to realize that I have been unsuccessful in communicating my feeling to you, as you asked me why I married you. I spoke the truth, despite the questionable state I was in. I do love you. Society may mock such ideas, as I did in years past, planning as I was to do what I saw as my duty to my family._

 _But you, Elizabeth, came into my life and scattered my carefully laid plans, and I found that I did not want to marry just anyone. I wanted you, and no other woman would do, for you are the only one I have ever loved and the only one I could picture my life with._

 _Thank you, my dearest Elizabeth, for giving me a chance to try again. Only if you are not serious in this venture, please stop me, I do not wish my heart to be played with._

 _Yours ever,_

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy_

Elizabeth reread the letter once more, lingering on several of the touching places. His tone reminded her of the previous night. He said he did not wish his heart to be played with, did he think her that cruel?

Perhaps he had good reason, Elizabeth felt a prick of her conscience as she thought over the last few months of and even before their marriage. She had not tried to be kind. Perhaps he had deserved it, perhaps not. It was a small thing to ask, and she could not blame him for it. Folding the letter again Elizabeth moved to her writing desk and opened the small chest where she kept her letters.

Pushing aside the majority, which were from Jane, Elizabeth hesitated as she eye fell on the letter resting on the very bottom. It's red wax seal still intact. It's the only address was her name printed in the same handwriting as the letter she now held.

After his horrible proposal of marriage, Mr. Darcy had written her the letter, asking her to read it. Elizabeth had not. She had almost burned it, as angry as she was. Elizabeth had never read it and had told herself she never would. Never had she had the desire to, it had been another way to refuse to do what he wished her to. Suddenly, Elizabeth was afraid to read the letter, fearful of what it might hold. What if she had been wrong?

Quickly Elizabeth stuffed the new letter on top of the other closed the box. Blowing out her candle she jumped into bed, determined to go to sleep and decide what she should do next in the morning. But she found this harder to do than she had thought. Realizing that her husband's feelings for her _were_ strong and had not changed despite her unkind behavior pricked her conscience even more, and for the first time, she felt sorry for him.

Early the next morning found Elizabeth sitting at her writing desk, twirling her quill between her fingers as she contemplated writing a letter. It seemed the best response, how was it to be done?

She wrote _Dear Fitzwilliam_ , but quickly changed her mind and crossed that out, she had never called him Fitzwilliam before, and it was too familiar. Instead, she tried Dear sir, no, too formal, that left only Mr. Darcy, what she had always called him. Very well. Taking that long to write his name on the letter didn't bode well for the rest of the message she feared. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as she had feared and she soon had a finished copy, only requiring her to rewrite it and take out the crossed out parts.

 _Dear Fitzwilliam,_

 _Dear Sir,_

 _Mr. Darcy,_

 _I had the pleasure of receiving your letter last night and feel I ought to reply in kind. First, though, I should thank you for your compliments and for making your intentions clear. I shall have no fear of dishonorable intentions I suppose, as we are already married._

 _Also, as you seem to have a note of doubt about it, yes, I should not mind being courted. I always mean what I say._

 _I feel I ought to congratulate you on your excellent beginning. Your letter writing_ is _better, and perhaps our relationship would be in better form if we only wrote letters to each other and avoided speaking to one another._

 _I appreciate your honesty and will try to reply in form. Writing is, I am sure a good idea for the both of us, as it will force me to think before I speak, a habit I do not put to use sometimes._

 _As to your begging my patience with you, you shall have it, sir; I am curious to see how one is to go about it. You must remember that my only experience is that of Mr. Collins attempt to woo me. Also, I have somewhat to gain from the successful completion as well, seeing as how I always have thought and found that a marriage where either partner cannot love for respect the other cannot be agreeable to either party._

 _As we have the privacy and lack of embarrassment afforded not being in person when the recipient reads the letter, I should like to ask, which is the real Mr. Darcy? The one I have seen every day, or the one who I feel I met for the first time two nights ago?_

 _As for your last note, I may have been unkind in the past, but I should not play with such an idea as this. I can not promise all is forgiven and forgotten, and I can not guarantee you, my love. I have never been in love; it is not my way. Respect should be enough for me, however. And I shall promise you that I will endeavor to begin anew._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Elizabeth_

Satisfied with her attempt, Elizabeth rewrote the letter and crumpled the first. Folding her note, she hesitated over how to deliver it. She could place it upon his bed, as she had done, but it was entirely too early to be awake and writing letters, and she was quite sure her husband was still in his room, so it would require her to wait until he left.

Filled with a sudden nervous energy she knew she could not go back to bed and was eager to start the day, so instead quietly slipped it under the door that separated her room from her husbands, then rang for her maid. It might be early, but she could go down and have a cup of hot chocolate. It would be far better than wondering when her husband would find her letter and what he would think of it.


	4. Hope and Progress

Wow! I can't believe how many responses I got from the last chapter! thank you all! and you can attribute that to the speed with which I was able to post another chapter! Sorry, I'm usually so slow everyone, hope you enjoy!

Fitzwilliam had been afraid he would be unable to sleep last night, knowing that Elizabeth would be reading his letter. It had taken him a good deal of tossing and turning to finally drift off into a less than peaceful sleep, in which he kept revising the letter he had written. As it was, he still woke quite early. Not wanting to repeat the morning of the day before he rose even though he was still tired and crossed to the window. It was frosted over, and he could feel the cold radiating off of it. Otherwise, however, the day looked very fine; sunny and bright.

Perhaps they might go for a short walk in the sparkling gardens. This idea and his anxiousness to know Elizabeth's answer to his letter made him turn quickly from the window, ready to meet the day. His hand froze over the bell rope though as his eye fell on a folded note lying at the foot of the door separating their rooms. It bore his name in neat writing. _Mr. Darcy._

His hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the paper, afraid of what he might find inside. While Elizabeth had been open to the idea the day before he could not help fearing rejection from her again.

Mr. Darcy did not get down as early as he had intended to since he found himself writing a reply to Elizabeth letter, but it was nowhere near as late as the day before. Elizabeth's message had certainly not been as warm as his, but that had not been expected. Still, it had been encouraging. The very fact that she had written back was encouraging.

His first letter from Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy put it away, sure he would bring it out many times to read. His next step planned out, he rang for his valet and felt that it was an interminable amount of time before he was ready to go downstairs.

Elizabeth was the only one in the breakfast room when he descended. At his entrance, she glanced up from where she was adding the generous amount of cream she liked in her tea and gave him a small smile.

It was a smile he had not seen before. Since their marriage he had found himself categorizing his wife's smiles, they were an easy way to read her. This smile was not her playful smile, nor her arch laugh, not even the finding-something-amusing smile, and certainly not the formal smile he hated that she had so often given him. He would have to find its name soon. Shaking himself out of the reverie he too often found himself sinking into around her he cleared his throat.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," when she nodded to him he noticed the flower nestled in her dark curls. It was the same one he had given her the night before. He was gratified by her wearing it. Filling his plate, he joined her at the table. He should ask her about the walk while he had the chance and they were alone. _Just out with it. Ask her._

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes?" she looked up from her tea "would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens later, if the weather is not too inclement?" _why was he so nervous?_ He hated that and hoped she wouldn't pick up on it, or worse, tease him about it.

"I should like that," Elizabeth answered, and he quietly let out a breath, then her eyes twinkled "but only, of course, if we are properly chaperoned, I would not want you to think I was too eager," her smile threatened to give away her joke.

"Of course," he agreed "I should never compromise a lady. Would you prefer we conduct our courtship in the drawing-room under the watchful eye of my cousin the Colonel?"

Elizabeth looked slightly alarmed "I did not mean for you to take it that far-" she started before catching his smile.

"Did you just tease me, Mr. Darcy?"

"Perhaps," he looked down to hide his smile, focusing on buttering his toast.

oOOOo

Elizabeth turned back to her own breakfast, a smile playing about her lips. Mr. Darcy had teased her, and she found she liked it exceedingly.

"I wonder where Georgiana and the Colonel can be?" Elizabeth asked, changing the subject.

"I cannot say. Who knows what they are planning," the last part was muttered under his breath.

"Planning?' Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Doing," he quickly corrected, flushing slightly.

Elizabeth didn't have long to ponder over this as in moments the two arrived in the breakfast room.

"Good morning," Georgiana said sweetly, joining them at the table. "How beautiful," she admired Elizabeth's flower "I have not seen you wear flowers before. I have always liked Amaryllis, it symbolizes splendid beauty, but also worth greater than beauty," she added, shyly ducking her head. Elizabeth had not thought to look up the meaning of the flower. She wondered if Mr. Darcy had or if it were a mere chance. His slight air of embarrassment suggested that he had indeed chosen the flower on purpose.

"Do we have any plans for the day?" the Colonel asked, joining them at the table.

"Only a walk in the gardens," Elizabeth offered, feeling they needed to include their guest.

"Rather cold for that, I might just stay inside," the Colonel said decidedly.

"What would you do inside?" Elizabeth asked. Not including her dear new sister, the Colonel was by far her favorite of her husband's relatives she had met.

"I might just read."

"You never read," Mr. Darcy protested.

"Well, perhaps I will turn over a new leaf," Richard smiled innocently.

oOOOo

Bundled against the cold, Elizabeth tucked her hands into her muff she went to meet her husband at the front entrance. In her warm boots, her approach was quiet, and she came upon Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds in deep conversation. Their voices were low, and all she caught before they heard her and quickly fell silent was Mrs. Reynolds reassuring him not to worry about something, as everything was in hand.

"What are you worried about?" Elizabeth asked, joining Mr. Darcy.

"Nothing at all," he said easily "Mrs. Reynolds was just assuring me that all is in hand for the holiday.

"I see," something didn't ring true, but before she could ask more, Georgiana and the Colonel appeared dressed just as warmly.

"Have you decided to join us after all?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, actually we were going to drive out with a few of the footmen to see that the pond was cleared up for skating," Georgiana said. She looked to Elizabeth "Fitzwilliam promised me that he would come skating with me this evening, we would love to have you join us."

The invitation was sincere, at least on Georgiana's part, but her husband's expression was less than pleased, to be honest. But Georgiana wasn't looking at him, waiting for Elizabeth's response.

"I should like that very much," Elizabeth agreed.

"Excellent, it's not Christmas without a skating party," the Colonel seconded the idea, before giving Georgiana his arm to lead her out where their small sleigh was waiting.

Elizabeth found Mrs. Reynolds was gone by the time this conversation had ended, and she and Mr. Darcy were alone.

"Shall we go?"

"Certainly."

The Pemberley Gardens were beautiful when in full bloom, but Elizabeth felt that today they rivaled even the summer, everything coated in a few inches of sparkling white. Each and every bush and branch holding their own pile of perfect snow. The walkways had been cleared mostly, but their footsteps still crunched in the snow. The silence was broken only by the call of birds in the frosty morning air.

Elizabeth took her husbands arm, feeling the beauty around her fill her up with a bubbling cheerfulness. "You have got me all alone Mr. Darcy, yet you have nothing to say?" she smiled up at him. His expression was much more serious as he stared down at her, looking into her eyes. And for a moment she thought he might kiss her, but then he seemed to mentally jerk himself away.

"Er, say about what?" he looked forward again.

"You are courting me, are you not?" perhaps he needed a little help.

"Yes."

"Then I believe it is common practice to _speak_ to the lady. You might compliment me, my tolerable beauty you withstood from the beginning, but if you think hard you might come up with something about my charming wit or…" she left the sentence hanging, waiting eyebrows raise in anticipation.

"You are beautiful," he protested her comment, "I may not have seen it at once, but I was wrong, you are far from tolerable."

"Hmm, far from tolerable, you will have to do better than that," Elizabeth teased.

"You are beautiful," He persisted.

"Beautiful as what?" she looked up at him, her dancing eyes catching the sunlight.

"You are as beautiful as," he paused for a long moment as if searching. "Your eyes," he spoke up suddenly.

Elizabeth frowned "I am as beautiful as my eyes?"

"No," he shook his head "Your eyes are beautiful," he suddenly looked away again, and Elizabeth sensed he was nervous. "They are the first thing I admired about you," he said quietly.

"Truly?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Sensing that the admission might not have been easy for him.

"Yes."

"Well, in all fairness I should tell you the first thing I admired about you then," she suggested.

"You admired anything about me?" his tone was embarrassed and slightly hopeful.

"Oh yes, I thought you quite the most handsome man I had seen in quite a while when you first entered the ballroom," she left off the part of, _it only lasted until you opened your mouth, however._ His face might be red from the cold, or it could be an entirely different reason.

oOOOo

"Where are you going?" Georgiana asked curiously as Richard left the footmen to sweep the snow off the pond and took the reigns, staring the horses again and sending them swooshing across the snowy path into the woods about Pemberley.

"I did not actually come to see the pond was ready, the footmen could have done that themselves," Richard reminded her. "I came to collect something to add to the decorations for Pemberley." With this, he stopped the horses and handing Georgiana the reigns, trudged through the snow and into the trees. He was back in a few minutes with several bunches of greenery.

Georgiana's face broke into a smile "mistletoe," she said.

oOOOo

Elizabeth had thought him handsome. The thought was pure pleasure and remained firmly embedded in his mind throughout their wandering in the garden. How many times since first meeting her had he imagined such a scene as this? The two of them, in perfect harmony, wandering the gardens. Of course, he had imagined many _other_ scenes that he had best not think about at present.

"The pond is ready!" Georgiana called bringing him out of his revery. Were they back already? He and Elizabeth must have been walking for longer than he had thought. She came towards them, nearly skipping with the Colonel in her wake. He dreaded skating, yet how could he say no when she was apparently so excited about it? And now Elizabeth would be there too.

"Isn't the snow beautiful?" Georgiana added once she had caught up, making as if to join them.

"Very lovely," Elizabeth agreed. "I remember when I was much younger how exciting the first snow was. I always wanted to be the first out of the house so that my print was the first to mar the snow," Elizabeth said, her smile warm as she remembered.

"As I recall you did that the first time it snowed here," Mr. Darcy spoke up, amused to know the reason his wife had felt the need to be up at such an early hour that first morning.

Elizabeth colored and changed the subject. "What do you remember doing in the snow Richard?"

"Snowball fighting of course," the Colonel responded at once.

"It no doubt prepared you for war," Elizabeth agreed, her eyes lighting with laughter.

"Richards style of snowball fighting _is_ war," Darcy remembered, "and he takes no prisoners."

"It's been a long time since I've played in the snow," Georgiana commented thoughtfully, and Darcy had to agree. When had been the last time he had even thought of doing such a thing? Quite a while before his father had passed on he was sure. At that instant, with a wet smack, a large snowball exploded on the back of his shoulder.

Shocked he turned around to the sound of his sister and cousin laughing to see Elizabeth, obviously the guilty party with her snow-covered gloves, laughing with the others. She had thrown a snowball at him. He could hardly believe it, well, it was Elizabeth.

oOOOo

His surprise was perfect, Elizabeth laughed merrily, wondering when the last time she had laughed quite like that was. Suddenly Mr. Darcy smiled, almost devilishly "very well Mrs. Darcy, turnabout is fair play," he said, crouching to make his own snowball.

With a sequel, Elizabeth dodged behind the nearest tree, and the snowball smashed against its trunk. That was all it took, Georgiana immediately joined in, and the Colonel was already rolling snowballs. And Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time she's had so much fun, even though she did get snow down her back.

oOOOo

Inside again, breathless and teeth chattering, the party divided to go to their separate rooms and change out of their wet clothes. Her husband walked her to her room, and Elizabeth paused at the door. She spoke to his back as he started to go "I enjoyed the walk very much, thank you."

Mr, Darcy turned "I enjoyed it as well. Perhaps we might do it again?"

"Yes, I would hope so," with that Elizabeth went into her room, feeling a warm smile on her face that she didn't try to sort out the source of.


	5. Memories

**Thank you all for your reviews even when it has been unforgivably long since I updated. I am terribly sorry it took me this long. I have not given up on this story and would really like to get it finished I will try to do better, my only excuse is its been a hard year. Since my boyfriend broke up with me unexpectedly I haven't been able to write, I'm going to try again, hope you all enjoy this short chapter!**

Georgiana's expression was one of complete dismay as she pressed her nose to the glass, looking out at the angry dark clouds that were coming up.

"I don't suppose we will be able to skate tonight with the storm," she sighed.

"I'm sure the weather will be fine tomorrow, or the next evening, we could go skating then," Elizabeth assured her, handing her sister in law her tea.

"Yes," Georgiana cheered herself, "we will."

Elizabeth glanced at her husband, again wondering at his expression of dismay when Georgiana had invited her to skate that morning. She resolved to ask him about it that evening before they retired.

Richard took that moment to arrive and join them at tea. "Mrs. Reynolds says not to enter the main rooms, she is going to begin decorating there, and we would be in the way of the servants."

"Oh, the servants are decorating?" Elizabeth noticed the sound of dismay in her tone and wished she hadn't let it slip out as everyone turned to look at her. "Do you always have the servants decorate the house?" she asked, pouring the Colonel a cup of tea.

"Yes," her husband said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh."

"Is there something wrong with that?" he had noticed her tone.

"No," Elizabeth quickly assured him, "It's just that we always did the decorating at Longbourn, and I thought we would here too."

"The whole house?" Mr. Darcy raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn't that be a bit much?"

"Well, perhaps," Elizabeth assented, looking down at her tea.

"I think it's a good idea!" Georgiana spoke up. "We don't have to do it all our selves, but at least supervise, it would be fun! Especially if we're stuck inside because of the storm anyhow!"  
Elizabeth looked to her husband, but there was no challenge in her expression, just a question.

"Whatever you like Mrs. Darcy," he raised his teacup slightly in a salute to her.

"If _we_ are to decorate, Mr. Darcy, _you_ must help," Elizabeth replied.

"I know nothing about decorating."

"Doesn't matter, just follow orders," she smiled at him archly.

The idea of decorating Pemberley themselves seemed like a daunting and rather impossibly task, but after only a few minutes, Mr. Darcy was ready to agree with his sister that this was an excellent idea. Elizabeth had been right as well; all he had to do was follow orders. He and the Colonel and several footmen were doing just that as Elizabeth and Georgiana bounced idea's around and rang for more red ribbon. He was at the moment steadying a short ladder his wife was on as she decorated the high mantle. His cousin was tying a bow in a length of bright ribbon.

"Remember that Christmas when it had yet to snow all year though it had been cold and we all went to bed feeling cheated?" Richard asked.

Darcy laughed softly as the memories returned. "Yes, and then it snowed in the night, that snow seemed the most magical of them all."

"I didn't think you believed in magic," Georgie commented.

"Just a figure of speech," he smiled at his sister.

"There, what do you think?" Richard held up his bow for Darcy and the ladies to inspect.

"Well..." Georgie began, unsure.

"Hmmm," Elizabeth frowned at the thing. Only Darcy took pity on him and was honest.

"Sadly lacking, Richard."

Richard tossed the bow at him.

"No, it has character," Elizabeth protested, her smile saying she was trying not to laugh.

"Character? It has something, but I'm not sure it's character," Darcy laughed. He caught Elizabeth looking at him with a strange expression on her face, before she quickly looked away, breaking the momentary spell. "Well, just for your effort, I shall display it prominently here on the mantlepiece," she announced, hopping back up onto the ladder and placing the bow in the center with a flourish.

"Well now that we're all done laughing at my valiant efforts, what's your favorite Christmas memory, Georgie?" Richard asked.

Georgiana was quiet for a few minutes before speaking. "I believe it was when I was eight," she said softly, and Darcy started. That was the year their parents had died. Richard also got quiet. Only Elizabeth didn't know.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"Well, Father and mother had died that year," Georgiana said, not looking at anyone, but focusing on slowly tying a much better bow. "We were of course still in mourning, so celebrating wasn't proper, but Fitzwilliam somehow knew that I needed Christmas anyway," she glanced up at him for a moment. "We went out to the woods and gathered a little greenery and put it just in the sitting room where we sat most of the day and read to each other and just talked. I felt very safe and grown-up, and it was like a day away from real life, a day I could forget about being sad and pretend before I had to go back." His sister stopped and blushed, turning to hang her bow up where it belonged.

Mr. Darcy swallowed; he had never known how much that day had meant to his sister. They were all quiet for a moment before Richard lightened the mood. "What about you, Mrs. Darcy? Tell us a story from a Christmas you remember."

"Well, let's see. I remember when I was ten, some of the village children had offered to let me come sledding with them and I very much wanted to, but Mama said I was too old and it was unladylike. You see I had never been sledding, with five daughters, my father never thought he had a need for sleds." Elizabeth paused as she tied together a small bunch of holly with a crimson thread. He watched her nimble fingers.

"Well? Did you go or not?" Richard demanded, feigning desperation to know how the story came out.

"Guess," Elizabeth turned her teasing smile on all of them, effectively lightening the mood after Georgiana's embarrassment at sharing a memory she had kept close for so long.

"You went," Richard guessed.

"So sad that you can read me that easily." Elizabeth shook her head. "Thankfully for me, my mother could not read characters quite so well, and never knew that I snuck out that day."

"You did?" Georgiana was shocked.

"I know, shocking isn't it? I had a wonderful time too, but if it makes you feel better, I was guilty after the fact, so guilty in fact, that I confessed."

"To your mother?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

"Oh, no, to Papa," she was quiet for a moment, and Darcy remembered that it hadn't been that long since she had suffered her own loss. Mr. Bennet may not have been the best father, but she had loved him.

He was about to change the subject and attempt to let her regain her composure, but she cleared her throat and continued in a cheerful tone.

"Yes, To Papa, I said I was guilty, not silly. He, of course, found it amusing and said it would be our little secret." The sadness that had momentarily pervaded the group quickly lifted as they remembered lighter memories and soon they were all talking and sharing again.

OoooO

Elizabeth excused herself from the group for a moment to regain her composure. Slipping away into the library, she sank into one of the chairs and allowed herself to think fondly of her father for a few minutes. How she missed him, it was hard to believe that he was gone, that if she went back to Longbourn, he would not be there, a book resting on his knee and a ready smile for her.

She heard laughter from the other room, and a smile tugged at her lips. There it was again. Her husband had a lovely laugh. The deep sound had surprised her, and she realized just moments ago that she could not remember ever hearing him laugh before that. What a shame. She found that she liked the sound. She would very much like to hear it more often.

OoooO

"Mr. Darcy?" his hand on the doorknob of his bedroom door, Fitzwilliam froze at the sound of Elizabeth's voice behind him. He may not have started outwardly, but his heart tripped over itself. He turned, she stood in the doorway of her room, backlit by the soft flickering light of several candles. Her hair was down, but otherwise, she was still dressed. He wondered if she had the slightest idea of how beautiful and tantalizing she looked standing there.

"Mr. Darcy?"

He slammed the door on those thoughts, "yes?" was that his voice, it sounded too breathless.

"Do you have a moment?" she motioned him towards her room, not waiting for an answer but disappearing. She could have all the moments of his time she wanted, his heart beating entirely too hard for him to act casual and unaffected, he followed her.

As soon as he was in the room, she spoke, talking as she moved about, gracefully gathering the sewing and books around the room from the day's use and placing them where they belonged. "I wanted to ask you about skating."

"Skating?" how was he supposed to be calm when she was this close, her hair loose and in such a private setting as her room? He had only been in her room twice, once when he initially showed her the house after their marriage, and then only days ago when she had helped him to his room.

"Yes," she continued, "I noticed when Georgiana invited me, you did not look very pleased. Would you prefer to skate alone with Georgiana? I can easily think of an excuse to stay behind," she offered, turning to look at him directly and wait for an answer.

"Ah, that. I should rather not go at all," he admitted.

"You do not enjoy skating?" Elizabeth asked, with amusement.

"I haven't skated for a great many years, and I was never very good at it. I find that the fear of falling has grown to eclipse the memories of the fun I had."

"Oh, nonsense!" scoffed Elizabeth "once you learn you never forget," she insisted. "We could practice tomorrow if you like, in the afternoon before we all go. A few turns around the pond, and you'll remember and be ready for the evening skating," she had come closer and was smiling up at him encouragingly.

"I fear you overestimate my ability a great deal," he managed, it wasn't easy to focus on the conversation when she as that close. He honestly doubted that practice would help him, but he was quite aware that this was the first time she had ever offered to spend time with him at all, and he was not going to refuse her. "But if you're offering your help, I will gladly accept."

Good, we can go tomorrow, whenever you like," she smiled, seemingly pleased. His wife had just proposed that they spend time together. He could not have felt more elated and doubted he would ever get any sleep that night. Too much to think about, such as, what should he say? Or do? He would have her all to himself.


End file.
